Tale of Two Sherlocks
by Classic-Color
Summary: 221C Baker street is no longer deserted. A new girl moved in and Sherlock finds himself facing the thing he fears the most (aside for boredom of course): Competition. So how is he going to deal with it? New mysteries, adventures and romance. An original character with quick wit and even quicker mind. SherlockXOC
1. Chapter 1

**Tale of Two Sherlocks**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

Under the shadow of a red moon, an unusual event took place: A very old lady, dressed in a gypsy style, stood in the middle of a circle of her followers. They were all wearing masks with only their eyes visible, choosing to stay anonymous to each other. It goes without saying that they were all notified In advance who else, aside from them, was to attend the event, but still, a discreet meeting was always a plus, even if it was for protocol uses only.

All of the followers stood in an absolute silence, barely breathing, though from time to time one of them shivered from the cold, or perhaps from fear.

They were in the middle of a deserted field, with wild grass and tall, broad trees - the perfect settings for a perfect hunt. From where they stood they could see movements in the grass, indicating the frantic run of hares. Each of those wild movements was followed by a loud barking, and a huge black dog, running after the poor hare.

The men flinched inwardly to the gruesome sight but the old lady, Mistress Roxane, seemed somewhat oblivious. She watched her hares being hunted down and slaughtered one by one till they were all dead then closed her eyes and concentrated.

"Maybe we shouldn't have come here" one of the men dared to whisper, when Mistress Roxane's' eyeballs turned to the back of her skull and she seemed to be in some sort of a trance. "This is too risky, even in our standards"

"Shut up, you coward, if this goes as planned we'll be rich" another one hushed him.

The so called coward opened his mouth to reply but decided against it the minute a rusty voice started echoing through the field:

"I can see an imminent death followed by a disastrous event. Yes, a young man will die soon, thus leading to a terrible war."

Mistress Roxane's voice died down, and was replaced by nervous whispers then one of the men stepped forward and asked in the name of the others "What shall we do then?"

The mistress thought for a second before saying: "You are to release a box into the ocean, and then set free eleven hares to be torn apart by rabid dogs."

As if to add to the horrifying scenery, a lightning stroked followed by a loud thunder, and the old lady began to laugh maniacally.

* * *

**Watson's Blog**

If you are in a bad mood you are likely to suffer from a lack of patience, interest and manners.

These indicators, unfortunately, don't imply for my friend, Sherlock, to whom these symptoms are just a behavior pattern.

Then how can I tell that he is in a bad mood? I can't! I can only guess that the poor number of new cases is getting to him, making him face his greatest fear: boredom.

That's Sherlock for you; Normal people are relieved when the cover story of the daily newspaper isn't some murder mystery. Sherlock on the other hand, is upset if that's the case, complaining about people not willing to die in order to satisfy his intellectual need.

Today, however, with the daily newspaper, Mrs. Hudson also brought news of her own: "You boys would be happy to hear that I've found a new renter for the vacant apartment".

Sherlock being himself just took a sip of his tea, mumbling "Oh, I'm overjoyed".

I coughed loudly, sending him an angry glare before turning to Mrs. Hudson: "That's great, just when I though this place would be abandon forever"

That's not exactly the truth, in fact, 221C Baker street has became very popular ever since I started writing the blog, but that was exactly the problem: overly enthusiastic fans started lining up for the basement apartment, hoping to get a closer look at the famous Sherlock. 'Surprisingly', Sherlock wasn't fond of the idea, and insisted on renting the apartment only to someone who isn't familiar with the blog, so the sales dropped yet again, and the flat remained empty… till today.

"So who is this guy? Is he cool?" I asked, fearing Sherlock's reaction if our new neighbor would turn out to be some useless blogger; he hated the blog enough as it is…

"Well, it's actually a she, her name is Arya Ashford, and she seems to be very nice" Mrs. Hudson realized that this was not what bothered me and so added "She never even heard Sherlock's name" to that I relaxed and thanked Mrs. Hudson for the paper and the news.

When she walked away I turned to Sherlock, watching him solving a maze in the back of the newspaper. I cleared my throat as a mean of hiding a chuckle.

"Well, since you seem to be awfully busy, maybe you'd want to come with me, to great the new neighbor?" I suggested, the amusement obvious in my tone.

Sherlock looked up from the maze, his eyes regarding me for a second, before replying "Well, as you said, I _**am**_ awfully busy, so how can I afford myself such an unnecessary errand?" he soon returned to his maze leaving me mentally kicking myself 'I forgot again' I thought.

You see, as sharp-minded as Sherlock is, he chooses to be perfectly blunt when it comes to sarcasm. It saves him the trouble of sorting a witty reply and gives him an easy victory.

"All right," I said, getting up and gathering the dirty dishes "I'll be downstairs if you need me"

He seemed to be all too a_**maze**_d (see what I just did there) by his occupation to hear what I've just said but I didn't mind at all. I still haven't forgotten how last time I left the flat he ushered me back from the grocery store just so I could fetch him a pen, talk about unnecessary errands. Yep, it was defiantly better if he didn't realize I was gone.

* * *

Our new neighbor was, as Mrs. Hudson described her, very nice. She invited me to her not-yet-furnished living room then offered me a soda and some cookies.

She was very pretty, though I'm not sure that this was the right word to define her, I guess "cute" suited her more: although she claimed to be 28 she had the face of an 18 years old: her features were all small and delicate in an exception for her eyes, which looked like huge green gems. For some reason, her straight golden hair was done in high pigtails and blunt bangs, not the regular woman hairstyle if I may say so myself. She was a bit short and her figure was one of a not yet developed teenager.

Her style of dressing didn't help maturing her appearance either: She wore overall jeans with beige, long sleeved shirt underneath and had a red thin scarf tied around her neck. Her shoes were blue all-star converse and I wasn't surprised to see that the shoelaces were loose.

All and all, I started wondering if 221B Baker street have vetoed the regular population.

As I talked to her I couldn't help but screaming in the back of my mind "Please don't be an 18 years old blogger, Sherlock will kill me!"

Suddenly we heard knockings on the door and Sherlock stepped in (speaking of the devil). He looked around the place, eyeing the boxes which were lined against the wall then looked at the girl for a couple of minutes.

"Sherlock! Hi! Glad to see you made it out of the maze. This is our new neighbor, Arya Ashford. Arya, this is Sherlock Holmes, he lives here too"

Arya stepped forward offering a hand and a smile, but Sherlock just held it and examined it before letting go.

"An office worker, a programmer most likely, quite a high rank in your job. You're doing a lot of sport activity, running nope, boxing, your father probably taught you some moves. Speaking of daddy, he is a busy man, a cop probably. Your parents - they don't live together for years now, and last but not least: you're daddy's little girl" he said in one breath then turned around to where another line of boxes stood, apparently to learn more from them. Though I couldn't see his face I knew he must be smiling slyly.

I sighed "There he goes, giving the oh so crucial first impression"

Arya studied him for a second then studied the room herself as if seeing it for the first time before saying:

"I'm very pale, which means I don't get to spend a lot of time in the sun – typical for working in an office. I have a pen in my front pocket which has the word "Intel" engraved on it. The pen itself is very exclusive, not the plastic one that is given to all the workers, but a fountain pen that is given only to the workers that hold key positions. I'm wearing clothes that are most likely for sports activities, my shoes look old, but not as worn-out as they would have been if I were to do long running, my fists are clenched most of the time, can be a reaction to you prying into my business but more likely a habit of a boxer, so boxing it is."

She then stopped, taking a minute to enjoy Sherlock's facial expression, which was as you might guess, no longer a sly smile.

"Shall I continue?" She asked, hands on her hips.

Sherlock only nodded, so she did:

"There's a box over there with the writing "gifts from dad". Only dads that are busy at work feel the need to buy their daughters so many presents. One of the presents, as you can see, is a cup with a sheriff star on it, officers usually use those, make them feel superior or something, I never got it either. Anyway, with my dad being a cop, it is most likely that he knows of this world's dangers and teaches his daughter, how to protect herself."

"There's a picture of me and my parents on the shelve here, and I'm 15 years old in the picture, if we had still been one happy little family I would have probably updated the picture…" She then exhaled a deep breath, as if she just finished the hardest part.

"And as to me being "daddy's little girl" - my bracelet says "Daddy's number 1", what a genius you must be for figuring this one out" She finished with a wink, and then crossed her arms behind her back.

"Touché, I see I underestimated you" Sherlock finally said. I knew that in Sherlock's vocabulary, admitting defeat is equal to an apology and a public humiliation combined, and she probably understood that too, so she simply smiled and explained:

"Don't be upset, it's not that big of a deal, as an old fable says: It's easier to fire your arrows and then draw your target than to draw your target then fire arrows at it. The amount of information you managed to draw out of my unloaded boxes is really impressive. My task was easier, I had the facts that you collected and the settings of the room, all that I had to do was put them together. It's basically what I'm doing for living." She finished with a laugh, a very childish one.

Sherlock's eyebrow was twitching in an obvious irritation, being defeated by a girl combined with a lack of brain activity was probably too much for his self esteem. He turned to leave, not before sending Arya a look that was less of a "goodbye" and more of a "till next time".

I invited Arya to come over whenever she wishes then followed Sherlock up the stairs. He seemed to be annoyed of what just happen, and suddenly I found myself being annoyed too, but for a totally different reason: I can barely take one Sherlock. How am I supposed to handle two Sherlocks?

* * *

**A/N: in the unedited version, this chapter was longer but then I decided it would be better to split it into two, so lucky for you, next chapter would be uploaded very soon! **

**Reviews are more than welcome, (be sure to mention if you liked my OC, she is after all going to be the heroine of the story…)**

**Hope you enjoyed **

**~ C2**


	2. Chapter 2

**Tale of Two Sherlocks**

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Sherlock's prayers were answered soon enough.

The next morning a police car parked in front of our house.

Sherlock sat on his couch, his fingers intertwined and he seemed to be in deep thoughts. Suddenly he talked, though I suspect it was more to himself than to me:

"This is an emergency, it needs to be solved… and fast!" then he raised his hand and started counting, lowering a finger after each number accordingly "Four… three… two… one… and"

Suddenly Mrs. Hudson stood in our door, wearing her expression of 'Why the rush, honestly, kids these days…' yeah, she had that kind of expression… Behind her stood detective Lestrad, he walked pass Mrs. Hudson then approached Sherlock "This is an emergency" he then said, looking jumpier than usual "It needs to be solved… and fast!"

I stared at the detective, mouth agape then stared at Sherlock who seemed to enjoy my bewilderment. "Do not worry Waston, I haven't abandoned my job as a consulting detective and turned to fortune telling, not yet…" He then turned to Lestrad "Alright, it better be good"

Three sergeants entered the room, and Sally Donovan was one of them. I wonder if she always wears this sullen expression or is it a privilege for Sherlock only.

"Yes Freak, I believe you'd find it entertaining, it's a locked-room case." she said, stressing the "freak".

Indeed, Sherlock found it entertaining, his back suddenly straightened, and his blue eyes lit with expectation.

Detective Lestrad started describing the crime:

"Yesterday at 11 PM, a murder occurred in a mansion just outside of London. The victim is Roxane Herne, an old woman, mostly known as a famous fortune-teller."

"Stop it" Sherlock suddenly interrupted the detective who was pacing back and forth, rubbing his temples. "Stop pacing, it's distracting"

Lestrad stood still then buried his hands in his pockets and continued:

Last night Roxane was resting in one of the rooms in her family's estate. Beforehand, she received a visit from her granddaughter, Mrs. Annabel.

Aside from them, there were two more servants in the mansion: an Indian man who is tasked with tending the hares she uses in certain ceremonies and the other is a woman of Arabic descent."

"Both foreigners" Sherlock mumbled to himself.

"Yes, well, she was fond of foreigners and was fluent in Arabic. Anyway, they all suddenly heard a gunshot from nowhere. Frightened by the sound they heard, the servants and the granddaughter gathered to warn the master of the house about the gunshot. The Arabic maid told her mistress in her native language to stay calm while they get into the room. Meanwhile, the Indian manservant, who heard the gunshot after tending to the hares, prepared a hatchet to break the door with, since the door was locked from the inside.

The granddaughter, however, stopped the manservant from proceeding, reminding him that since she is the heir to her grandmother's properties, she cannot afford to have the wooden door destroyed.

Because of this, the Arabic maid resorted to a drastic measure: destroying the lock using a pistol. The maid successfully tore through the lock with the gun, however, when they opened the door, they found Roxane, sitting motionlessly on her wheelchair with a gunshot to her left eye."

Me and Mrs. Hudson shared an Ouch moment to the thought of a being shot to the eye. All the people in the room turned to look at us with blank stares then turned back to Sherlock:

"The room was impermeable; the door was locked from the inside and so were the windows, there was no possible way for the murderer to escape. The witnesses didn't see anyone leaving the room and we didn't find any weapon in there either."

Sherlock leaned back in his couch, processing the information.

Sally Donovan clucked her tongue impatiently. "This mansion is located in a rich neighborhood, the citizens are all of a very high class, not that you would understand… anyway, if we don't give them the murderer and fast they would use their connection in the media to convince the people that they are not safe… We don't want that to happen" She stated the obvious.

Sherlock got up from his couch at once and reached for his coat and scarf "Alright, first we will need to visit the crime scene, and…"

"I don't think we need to" a voice suddenly came from the entrance. We all turned to see Arya standing in the doorstep, fumbling with her bracelet nervously but seeming pretty sure of herself. I didn't even notice her coming in.

"Who is this? Another freak?" Sally said, studying Arya from her converse to her pigtails. I couldn't blame Sally for her conclusion; Arya's unique look combined with her odd interference did give the image of a crazy person.

"Ms. Ashford, now is not the time" Sherlock cut in, being weird in serious occasions was his job.

Arya smiled warmly "Why? Watson did say I could come by whenever I feel like it" Oh no, there she goes framing me.

"Yes, but **we **don't feel like it right now!" He said through clenched teeth sending me a death glare.

"Well, since I'm already here, please allow me to stress my theory to the matter at hand" she ignored his anger, that is, if she noticed it at all…

"Solving crime is a logical science, not a game of 'guess who'" Sherlock was losing it…

"I know you all think that the granddaughter is the culprit but you're wrong, if that were the case she wouldn't have prevented the servant from breaking the door, knowing it would make her look suspicious." Arya broke in, all amusement disappearing from her eyes, suddenly she looked serious… and dangerous.

"Well, it could have been a bluff, she knew that saying such a suspicious sentence would lead one to think that there is no way she is the culprit if she commits such a stupid mistake. But then again, it can be a double bluff or…" Sherlock started talking really fast; he used to do it when he felt the need to prove himself…

"Or a triple bluff, yes, I would have taken that into consideration if I haven't known already who the murderer is…" She took a melodramatic pause, letting her words sink in then continued:

"The gunshot which was first heard by the inhabitants of the house was made by the Arabic maid in another room while the others were away. Then she joined the others and talked to her mistress in Arabic, a language only she and Roxane knew. She claimed that she calmed Roxane, telling her they were about to enter the room, but what if what she really said was "Stay away from the window, there's a murderer outside, please come to the door" "

The whole room gasped as the realization hit them "The maid fetched the pistol she used earlier to fire the false shot and aimed it to the lock, just as Roxane reached the door and picked through the lock. The bullet went straight to Roxane's left eye, killing her immediately"

Silence then took place in the room, and was broken when me and Mrs. Hudson shared another "ouch" moment. Once again everyone's attention turned to us.

The detective whispered something to Sally and she hurried out of our flat. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that she was on her way to arrest the maid…

"Well, you were right Sherlock, now is a bad time, I guess I should be going now" Arya said and started heading down the stairs herself.

"Not so fast" Sherlock suddenly said "Your… assumption surely is reasonable enough, but you're forgetting one thing" he called, trying to overcome the commotion that started when everyone turned to leave. "The first shot! Your lucky guess left its motive and target unknown, you ignored it completely!"

Arya turned her head to him, raising an eyebrow in an innocent manner "your point?" she asked.

"It wasn't a false shot! Detective! Make sure to check what the maid shot at, this is her motive!" Sherlock's pride was at stake here, and he didn't treat it lightly.

Arya looked confused; she stared at the ceiling for a second then mumbled "you're right" then said it again, louder this time, putting on a smile.

Detective Lestrade nodded then turned to leave. It didn't escape our notice that when passing next to Arya he handed her his business card. Arya stared at it then threw it away:

"As if he won't contact me first" she said with a sigh, then waved us both goodbye and started her way down the stairs, skipping two stairs at a time.

Her light aura was soon replaced by a dark miasma and it felt as if the room's temperature dropped a few degrees, that is, before Sherlock started sending heat waves of his own.

"Watson!" his voice came out as a roar.

"Yes?" my voice came out as a squeak.

Suddenly, the temperature felt normal again, and Sherlock stopped producing heat waves. In a blink of an eye he regained his composure and a gentle smile covered his lips. For some reason I found it scarier than before.

"Watson, this is war!"

* * *

**A/N: Hee hee, Sherlock so had it coming. It's about time someone hurt his pride a little… **

**Anyway, how do you like the case I've built? Was it good? Did I explain it well enough? **

**Oh, and another thing. I have assumed that all of you already know the character (looks, personality, background etc.) so I've skipped their introduction, is it O.k. or should I add some information about them? Please leave a review and let me know.**

**Hope you enjoyed**

**~ C2**


	3. Chapter 3

**Tale of Two Sherlocks**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

After the case of "the unfortunate fortune teller" things have gotten out of hand; Sherlock was set on fighting and defeating Ms. Ashford and for a while it even seemed like she was going to replace Mycroft's role as Sherlock's arch enemy.

It goes without saying that I was dragged into this war against my will.

At first Sherlock simply avoided her: He studied her daily schedule and refused leaving the flat during the time she was at home. At Sherlock's part, it meant fortifying in the flat for 15 hours a day. At my part, it meant serving him as a connection to the outside world during this time.

My life became a living torture; I was sent to investigate, to do errands, to go shopping and he even ordered me once to go get some fresh air for him. I'm lucky to be living in the modern age of in-house restrooms otherwise he would have send me to do even that for him.

The cold war ended in the morning, a week after: I was sent to bring the newspaper like a good little puppy (the newspaper arrives at 7:30, Arya leaves for work at 8:15. But Sherlock loves to be updated as soon as possible) on my way back I missed a step and fell hard on my leg, spraining my ankle as a result.

Then, with no one to tend to his needs, Sherlock had no choice but to fight his own battle…

* * *

In a political act that wouldn't have embarrassed a Swiss diplomat, he tried to avoid the war and turned to Mrs. Hudson, asking her to please get rid of the nuisance that lurks in the basement (his words exactly), but Mrs. Hudson dismissed him with a smile, asking him to leave Ms. Ashford alone.

The fact that Mrs. Hudson left it at that, and didn't take the opportunity to question him about his love life didn't escape Sherlock's notice. Mrs. Hudson always tried to set him up with someone, every member of the opposite sex was agreeable in her measures.

It was like "Oh, Sherlock, I've met such a nice girl today, eh Jessica, you should meet her, I think you two would make a lovely couple"

"No, Mrs. Hudson, as I've already explained, I'm already married to my job!"

"Oh I see… Well, Jessica has a friend, she is very nice too…"

So yeah, it seemed strange that Mrs. Hudson just dropped the issue and didn't try to set him up with Arya (she did refer to her as "nice" once).

"Mrs. Hudson, may I have a look at the lease you've signed with Ms. Ashford?" he asked in a suspicious tone.

As he expected, Mrs. Hudson refused at first mumbling something about privacy rights and renting policy but she soon gave up, handing the papers to Sherlock, a look of shame on her face as he read the contract.

Section number 8 caught his attention: The landlord here by confirms that the tenant was found suitable for the property; therefore as long as the tenant still meets the landlord's demands as were stated in advance, the landlord may not revoke the contract due to new demands violation.

"Mrs. Hudson, how could you have fallen for such a trick?" Sherlock said in an outrage.

"Well, she was set on adding this section, and she seemed so sweet I didn't think that…" Mrs. Hudson tried to defend herself.

"Exactly, you didn't think, honestly, why can't people just think?" he said then stormed off looking like a bull, with the contract being the red flag…

He wasn't mad at Mrs. Hudson, it was only a minor mistake. No, he was mad at Arya, for once again being one step ahead of him.

Wait a sec. - Mrs. Hudson said Arya insisted on that section, which means… Yes! Brilliant, this is it!

Sure of his victory Sherlock turned not to Mrs. Hudson. Oh no, he went straight to Arya's apartment, he wanted to see the look on her face when she realize she was defeated by the unbeaten Sherlock Holmes.

He quickly made his way to Arya's apartment, to tell her that she lost both the fight and the apartment and to let her know that she should start packing daddy's gift yet again.

* * *

Things haven't turned up the way he planned, to say the least;

When he knocked at the door Arya only opened a crack and didn't even find the need to open the door chain.

"That's unexpected, what's the matter? You need my help in solving a case?" she asked, though doubtful.

"When hell freezes over. No, that's not it, the thing is that I've just had a friendly conversation with Mrs. Hudson, nothing out of the usual… and she happened to mention your renting contract, not that it was the topic to begin with…" Sherlock started an innocent talk.

"Where are you going with it?" Arya asked studying his overjoyed expression, she didn't get to see him use one ever since she arrived here.

"Well, she let me have a look on the contract and…"

"That's a violation of privacy right and of…"

"Never mind that!" he shouted. How did she always manage to drive him crazy? "I've read it Arya Ashford! I've read section number 8! Mrs. Hudson said you insisted on adding it to the contract. Now why on earth would you do that? Unless of course, you knew you would end up upsetting one of the neighbors. Meaning that you knew me before you've have moved here! Meaning that you didn't meet Mrs. Hudson's standards to begin with, for Mrs. Hudson was told to accept only those who haven't heard of the blog!" He finished his speech out of breath then looked at Arya, trying to find a change in her expression, but he found none!

"You said you didn't want neighbors who knew you from the blog. I don't know you from the blog" she said in a bored tone and intended to close the door but he prevented her from doing so.

"What? Impossible. You're lying!" he decided, looking for any signs of dishonesty in her body language. Once again, he found none…

"You really don't remember me?" she asked in disbelief.

"Why? Should I?" he replied.

"No… I'm just asking to sound sophisticated…" she rolled her eyes then sent a kick to his stomach. He managed to dodge it by jumping backward and she took the chance to slam the door shut.

He stood outside her door for a few minutes, a puzzled look in his eyes.

"Who are you Arya Ashford?" he whispered.

* * *

**A/N: Wow, I'm on fire! Three chapters in two days! Yay me!**

**Well, there wasn't any real mystery in this chapter (Unless Arya counts for one), I've originally planned to start a new case but decided against it eventually. Next chapter would be more mysterious… (oohhh)**

**I don't like the writers who beg for reviews, but how about leaving me some to feed my creativity and keep the writer's block away? **

**Do stay tuned for an update; I'm planning to upload another chapter real soon.**

**Hope you enjoyed **

**~ C2**


	4. Chapter 4

**Tale of Two Sherlocks**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Ever since twisting my ankle I was sentenced to a house arrest or, more accurately, couch arrest. In my personal scale, I think I'm starting to get why Sherlock behaves that way… Boredom is a horrible thing in deed.

"Yes, finally someone understands!" I turn around to see Sherlock leaning on the back of the couch, reading my blog as I write it. I ignore him and get back to writing, hoping he would leave me in peace and wouldn't ask me to do something for him... For someone who was gifted with such a sharp mind it sure took him a long time to realize that I can't serve him in my current condition.

"Oh, stop whining, it's only a twisted ankle" Sherlock groaned, slumping on a chair opposite to me. Note yourself; silence treatment doesn't work on Sherlock.

"Hey, I did give you my couch" he continued defending himself. For some reason, I think he feels guilty for my injury… Neh, must be my boredom causing me hallucinations.

"Well, I appreciate your thoughtfulness" I reassured him. Truth to be told, it was hard for me to be mad at him given the fact that he was the only thing that kept me from losing my mind. "Thank you for keeping me company and I'm sorry you had to put off the yacht voyage because of me" I apologized.

The yacht belonged to Roxane's granddaughter, who offered Sherlock and me an exclusive voyage as a token of gratitude for capturing her grandmother's murderer. Sherlock, in an out of character gesture, accepted the offer happily and thanked the granddaughter for her kindness.

"Who said I'm calling off the voyage?" Sherlock asked me in confusion.

I replied with a hearty laugh. "Now you're just fishing … I've already said thank you" I told him, still laughing.

* * *

Only on the day of the supposed-to-be-cancelled voyage I realized that Sherlock wasn't fishing when he said he wasn't calling off the voyage.

I woke up in the morning to find him all packed up and ready to leave.

"Oh, Good morning, just in time" he greeted me once I've rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and washed my face. "I'm going now!"

"Yes, I can see that" I said while stuffing a yawn "Where to, if I may ask?"

"Yes of course you may, to the yacht! I can sure use a little vacation" he replied, stealing a last glance on our flat to see if he has forgotten anything.

"What? But you're still wearing your coat and scarf. No one goes on a vacation wearing a coat!" I told him decisively, proving him that I've pick up some of his tricks.

"Did you honestly think I would wear a floral shirt or would drink from a coconut when on vacation? God John, and you're claiming to be my friend" he said in a horrified tone and then continued "Mrs. Hudson would take care of you during my absence, so long!" and with that he walked away.

* * *

Later that day Arya came for a visit. She apologized for not doing so earlier and didn't bother to explain why, since we both knew how Sherlock acted whenever she was around.

Mrs. Hudson invited her for Lunch and we all enjoyed a peaceful meal. That is, until we heard the noise of footsteps coming from the stairway followed by an eager looking Sherlock.

"Aha! I knew it! I knew it! You did cancel, you did, but you decided to have a little laugh on my account, well, ha ha, very funny" I shouted in a vexed tone. Yes, the meal was in deed peaceful, but if there is something that my time with Sherlock taught me is that I can't handle peace.

"Ms. Ashford, why on earth are you here? Oh, never mind, it just so happens to be that I need your help" Sherlock ignored my irritation and turned straight to Arya.

"Need my/her help?" both me and Arya asked in the same time, with a dropped jaw.

"Yes, and be quick about it, we have a ship to catch" he said, clearly it was hard on him to ask for help, especially from Arya.

Arya studied her options for a minute, clearly she had two choices: to refuse him just to prove a point which would surely feel good but would get her nowhere or to accept his request and enjoy an adventure. She chose the latter and ran out of our apartment without even bothering to say goodbye.

"Well then, I'm off, goodbye again John" Sherlock said and followed her.

He just loves doing it, doesn't he?

* * *

"You know, the costume is really unnecessary!" Sherlock commented, addressing Arya who looked like a full-fledged sailor; she wore a blue navy sailor suit, with a red tie and matching red high-heels shoes. Her hair was now in a high ponytail, and she wore a white sailor cap just to complete the look.

"Why? It's not my fault you look like a gravedigger" she replied, adjusting her hat.

Sherlock mumbled something in return. "What was it?" she asked.

"Oh nothing, I think you're a little too influenced by Christina Aguilera, is all"

The very thought of him listening to candyman made her giggle.

"All right, we're here, now, we're looking for Queen Berry" he instructed when they reached the port.

"Right, so why am I here again?" she asked as she too searched for the ship.

"Mrs. Annabel yacht originally belonged to Roxane. I allowed myself to do a search on the yacht and found that" he told Arya, handing her a white envelope.

Inside the envelope was an invitation, addressed to Roxane, inviting her to an event called "The Miniature Garden Box Evening"

"Well? Some fancy party for some fancy people, why would we be interested in that?" Arya wondered.

"Lestrade called me a few days ago; he said he found the object which the maid shot at before murdering Roxane. It was a mirror, used by Roxane for her fortune-telling and when he later questioned the maid about it, she said it was "revenge of the box" sounds like it is somehow connected to this party, plus, they are serving hare as the main dish, coincidence? I don't think so." Sherlock concluded.

"O.k. you convinced me, it is suspicious. Though I still don't understand what I have to do with all of this. You didn't seem pleased last time I've solved a case that was originally yours." Arya inquired.

"Well, this evening is for invited guests only, and I might be good with costumes but pretending to be a female is a thing I just wouldn't do!" Sherlock said decisively.

"Oh, I see, well then, I always wanted to attend one of those fancy parties! Let us enjoy the evening, shall we Mr. Holmes?" Arya said with a smile once they've spotted the Queen Berry Ship.

"We shall, Ms. Roxane!"

* * *

**A/N: Arya and Sherlock are going on a trip, and so am I! **

**Going out on a vacation with my family for a week, so I thought I would give you this chapter as an appetizer. **

**I would get back on the story once I returend so look forward to that. **

**Hope you enjoyed**

**~ C2**


	5. Chapter 5

**Tale of Two Sherlocks**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

It was a cold stormy night! Great for a horror story, but not that great for a cruise.

The guests of Queen Berry have all arrived and they were led to the dining hall; a huge room, decorated in a palace-like style, with magnificent chandeliers and beautiful pictures, a burgundy carpet was laid on the floor, and the walls were covered with a matching wall papers with fleur de lis texture.

If the guests hadn't all been total snobs and had taken the time to study each other, they would have noticed the absurd behavior of two specific guests; While Arya, who pretended to be Mistress Roxane, was fascinated by the grand ship, Sherlock, who disguised himself as her servant, seemed to be accustomed to such luxury.

Arya fascination has remained through the whole meal. She gave an excited gasp whenever a new dish was served and devoured it in an unladylike fashion. Sherlock, who stood behind her, coughed a little to catch her attention.

"What is it?" she asked while chewing on her stake.

"Disguising as Mistress Roxane takes more than simply being a female. Get your act together! You're ruining our cover" he hissed at her.

"And you are ruining my appetite. Seriously, these people are total morons. If they hadn't realized that I'm 62 years younger than the real Roxane, then there is no way they would notice my oddness." She reassured him, taking another mouthful.

"They are not morons when it comes to etiquettes and mann…" he was stopped mid-sentence when Arya shoved a fresh roll to his mouth.

"Fine, if being aristocratic would get you to shut up" and with that she returned to her food.

Sherlock decided not to push the argument further, and settled for eating the roll, which secretly, he found quite delicious.

* * *

Arya's sleep was disturbed when she felt something touches her face. She opened her eyes to see Sherlock poking at her cheek, looking at her curiously.

"Oh great, you're awake, took you long enough." Sherlock said with a smile when she jumped backward in surprise.

Arya studied the room around her, it was similar to the one they dined in but it had couches instead of a dining table. She saw the other guests who all seemed to be dizzy and confused rising from other couches.

"What happened?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"The food we ate was dragged, once it took its effect we were drugged in here" Sherlock told her and then studied the room himself.

"Must have been one heck of a sleeping drag" Arya sighed when a strong headache began pounding in her temples.

"No, not really, you just ate too much" he said indifferently then continued "something is wrong! There were 9 guests aside from you and me back at the dining hall. Now there are 12 people including us. Someone joined us in here and I suspect it is the same someone who brought us here in the first place."

Arya took a moment to sober up then scanned the room to see that he was right. Suddenly a shout came from the doorway.

"Is that some kind of a joke? The door is locked! What's going on here? Who has the key?"

Sherlock and Arya turned to see a young lady, not older than 30. She wore a fancy red gown, indicating of her status. Her face were pale and beautiful, her black hair cascaded down her shoulders, her eyes were crystal blue and right now, they were filled with resentment.

She left the handle and walked from the door. She juggled with her black purse around her arm and when she passed next to Sherlock it hit him hard on his head. He hissed in pain and sent her a look that would have been a death glare if not for the woman's beauty.

Arya rolled her eyes and was about to comment on that when she heard quiet whispering from behind her. She saw three of the men talking to each other "That must be the box, think they are the hares?" they looked to her direction and she quickly averted her eyes back to Sherlock.

He was no longer on the couch. She looked around and spotted him next to the fireplace, looking at a little ship that was probably a replica of Queen Berry. He raised his hand to touch it when someone screamed "Stay away from it!" Sherlock turned just in time to avoid a dart that was suddenly sent to his direction from an unknown location.

The guests have all gasped in shock, and Arya quickly ran over to Sherlock who was as white as a ghost.

"Sherlock, I remember now!" she told him once he was over the trauma "I've read a story once, the story of the Queen Berry. I've read that the cruise ship has sunk ten years ago, and was raised by the souls of the dead, now whenever there is a stormy night those who are lured into boarding the ship become living sacrifices, and when Queen Berry sinks again, it drags them beneath the waves."

"I don't believe in ghost stories!" Sherlock told her abruptly "and you shouldn't either! Whoever's responsible for what's going on here is very much alive."

They suddenly noticed that their conversation, despite being quiet, was heard by all the guests, who started eyeing each other suspiciously.

Suddenly the lights went out, leaving the room in heavy darkness. Arya felt fear grasping her heart and started groping around. "Sherlock! Sherlock where are you? Sherlock!"

Suddenly the blackout ended and the lights were back on. Once her eyes adjusted to the sudden change Arya spotted Sherlock standing right where he was before "What's your problem?" he asked her in an unchanged tone.

It seemed that nothing happened during the blackout, that is, until they've heard a scream. The lady from before was once again the cause of the commotion. She covered her mouth with her hand as if fighting the urge to scream again and pointed at the wall in front of her.

Everyone's gaze followed her finger and what they've seen caused them all to panic; the wall, that was totally normal moments ago, now had a blood-red writing on it.

It was ten years ago,

But it seems like yesterday.

This time, it's your turn.

The box has been prepared.

So... "My hares",

Run!

Arya and Sherlock have read the writing once, then twice, trying to make sense of it. Other guests however, didn't seem to question the writing's mystery and took it as it was: They ran!

The first man that arrived at the door pulled it with all his might. He managed to open it and everyone sighed in relief. That is, until they've heard a loud rustle and the man fell backward. Arya started shaking in fear when she caught a glimpse of the man and saw that an arrow has pierced through his forehead.

Suddenly she felt Sherlock reaching for her hand, "Are you O.k.?" he asked her quietly, and although she assumed it was an act of compassion from his side, she traced no compassion in his voice. His posture, eyes and voice all taught of a total apathy despite the gruesome sight.

She quickly pulled her hand away, regaining her composure "I'm O.k. I just thought of what would have happened if I were to open this door, thankfully I haven't, now let's move!"

The other guests seemed to agree with that, one of them shouted "The trap is already sprung, we can move safely now" and they all nodded their agreement and ran outside.

Arya and Sherlock followed them all the way up to the deck. It rained heavily and the sea looked deadly even to the grand ship.

When Arya understood what the men were planning she started shouting at them but that didn't stop them from utilizing the ship's lifeboats to escape.

Despite her warnings six of the men jumped to the lifeboat, another desperate man wanted to join them and Arya tried to stop him but he just pushed her aside. She fell down and the man was about to jump to the lifeboat but then another guest, who seemed younger and stronger than the rest, held him back in a tight grip. The men on the lifeboat eventually decided not to wait for the man and lowered the lifeboat.

Arya and the other guests who stayed on the ship, watched in horror as the little boat struggled the strom till it was crushed by a towering wave. Arya closed her eyes, wishing to erase the scene from her memory. She then looked at Sherlock who once again seemed to cope all too well with what he has just seen.

She took a deep breath and looked at the remaining survivals; the young woman was still there, an unreadable expression on her face. The terrified man no longer tried to resist the one who was holding him back and stared at the sea with fear in his eyes, mumbling to himself in panic. The man who gripped him realized that Arya was looking at him and decided to let go, then ran a hand through his hair "Well, now that was a meaningless way to die" he said, breaking the silence.

"We tried to warn them" replied the woman then turned to leave the cursed deck.

Everyone followed her inside, Arya waited for Sherlock, who studied the deck for a little longer before joining the others. Arya wanted to discuss everything with Sherlock, to maybe understand what's going on but he seemed to be deep in thought so she decided not to bother him just yet.

Suddenly a scream came from the end of the hallway.

"This is becoming a habit of her" Sherlock noted casually and rolled his eyes.

Arya stared at him in disbelief then pushed him down the hallway to where the scream came from.

Looking at the reason for the lady's scream Arya's pupils shrank in fear and her jaw dropped then she said:

"Sherlock, you might want to reconsider the existence of ghosts"

* * *

**A/N: Yay, I'm back from my vacation with another chapter for you! **

**I just want to thank Gumi Holmes Lupin for being the first, un-anonymous reviewer. **

**And a little extra**** challenge: First reviewer would get a hint for solving the mystery !**

**Hope you enjoyed**

**~ C2**


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